Who am I?
by frogandrabbitsox
Summary: Who are they? Another short one-shot fanfiction about the nations and the narrator. Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia and this one idea in the fanfiction because I don't read it somewhere. Please don't kill me.


_AN/ Hi! Another short one-shot that took me FOREVER TO DO. It's pretty obvious who's narrating in the story._

_Disclaimer: I don't Hetalia. Duh._

_-Cassie_

* * *

Who am I?

I don't know anymore. I've been so much people in the past. I was a soldier, a citizen, an aristocrat, a beggar, a businessman, an older brother, a lover, a hater, and there are so much more titles I bestowed upon myself in the distant yet close memory called the past. I could have done anything, yet I couldn't. I could have destroyed my world. I could have destroyed myself. Instead, I covered myself in roses. Roses with thorns. People called me beautiful. The roses were beautiful. People said I was closed and cold. My thorns were sharp. People said I might end up hurting myself. My thorns knew no direction. Over the years, the vines wrapped around me completely, tighter and tighter, the thorns growing into the bleeding flesh of my soul. It hurts so much that I couldn't move. I covered my dying soul with skin, with living flesh, with blonde hair, with green eyes. I trapped my soul in my the cage I called my heart, cold as metal in the dark winter. Cold as my eyes.

They also say that the eyes are the window to the soul. That saying would only work for humans. I knew illusions. All the things portrayed in my eyes, were merely a reflection of my human self. My human soul, not the soul of a thousand years of pain, hurt, and happiness. My emotions covered a cold, dark and lonely person stuck in this lively body. How mocking. I was always mocked. I hate being mocked. I hate losing. I hate being neglected, being cast off to the side, like the seventh wheel. All personifications were cast off to the side, like ancient stones on the side of a lively road, the road of life.

The road of life always mocked us, because we measured time differently. We had too much time. We lived in pain, hidden but alive through the torture of time, of the past, present, and the future, inside bodies that had frozen in time, that could defy time, and could follow it. We personification were taunted. We were taunted by time, by life, by memories, by love, by hate, by war, by everything that have always haunted us since the beginning. We lived through the pains of memories, of war, of death, for we could not die. We strolled through happiness that would only hurt us further. It is a miracle that someone such as we do not collapse from such pressure, of such burdens of defying time, maybe even defying the reason of existence. Perhaps it is because we cannot die. Perhaps it is because we are needed.

Our reason for existence continuously taunts us. We live not our own, personal life but a life with a fate that is depended on others. We are controlled by others. The others are our creators, or Grim Reapers, and our torturers. They choose the fate that we must live through. Like the gods of the Greeks and the Romans, we were modeled after their looks. Though one of us equal a billion of them, were are almost completely helpless. Unless what we do is with their will. We are made of the citizens, the government, the people of the country. Our people. Humans. If what we are made of, our "body" makes a unified decision, we, the personifications, will often follow. However, if it is utter chaos, government against citizen, we will suffer and be dragged into the midst of a fight that could destroy us all. If a natural disaster hits, we could be also be doomed. What harms our "body" will harm us as well. If we are at war, we shall fight, willfully fight, and believe me, it is not a child's play. The pain on the land mass, will be experienced by us, leaving scars on our bodies to remind us of our cursed fate and our cursed past. I have experienced too much of that. It pains me too much. I sometimes just want to leave this world. But, no matter how ragged, how diseased, how poor your condition may be, like our creators, we fight on. Because it is their reason to exist. May that be ours?

I have fought. I have experienced true pain. I have developed. I have changed. But no matter what, the past still haunts me. I am still caged and still bound by my thorns that could very well destroy me. Emotional scars define me. I have left my emotional welfare long ago. The world could be colorful for all I care, but I still see gray. I am still trapped. I am still fighting. As a nation, one must fight on. One must face the past, present, and the future. No matter what, we cannot fully defy our reason to exist. I, a pirate, citizen, bartender, brother, lover, nation, and much more, will fight on. I will live up to my identity. Though I live a hard life, one can find happiness in pain. Yin. Yang.

Maybe I do know who I am.


End file.
